


Mirror, Mirror

by rw_eaden



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyswap, Bunker Fluff, Dean loves musicals, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Magic Mirror - Freeform, Men of Letters Bunker, ambiguous time period, sometime around season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 11:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6422650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Charlie swap bodies when they both gaze into a magic mirror that gives them the potential to attain their deepest desires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror, Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if the formatting is fucked up. I was having a few posting issues. If you notice a problem, please don't hesitate to tell me and I will fix it.

“Hey, dude, check this out!” Charlie hollered. 

Her head poked out from behind a stack of boxes taller than her, red hair shimmering bronze under the store room’s overhead light. She held up a black hand-mirror. 

Dean sneezed and batted the mini dust cloud away as he set yet another empty box down on the shelf. “Please tell me it’s something that’ll kill a kelpie,” he said, striding towards Charlie. 

He peered over her shoulder at the mirror in her hand. It was one of those ornate, garish looking things you’d expect to see in the bedrooms of Victorian noblewomen. The handle and frame were all gold filigree and greenish aged bronze. The glass of the mirror itself was black and coated with a layer of thick dust. Charlie wiped the mirror with the sleeve of her jacket, revealing a dark, glossy surface. 

“Hey, be careful with that. It could be cursed,” Dean said, covering her eyes with his hand and turning away. 

“Relax, Dean,” Charlie said, pushing his hand away. “I checked the box. It’s fine.” 

Dean turned to face her, “Which box?” 

Charlie pointed to an opened cardboard container sitting on the shelf in front of them. It didn’t have the usual protection markings the Men of Letters used to designate potentially dangerous objects. Instead, the words To Ophelia were scrawled on the lid in a hasty script, accompanied by the catalog numbers W-157 in thicker, bolder print. 

“What do you think it does?” Charlie asked, running her finger over the inner rim of the mirror, brushing dust into the strange script etched into the surface. 

“Dunno. But just because it doesn’t say it’s cursed doesn’t mean it isn’t,” Dean said. He caught their hazy reflections in the mirror. The shadowy image made the dark circles under his eyes stand out. 

“You’re such a worrywart.” Charlie jabbed her elbow into Dean’s rib and set the mirror back down in its container. Dean rolled his eyes. 

“What’d we have to find again?” Charlie asked.

“Some kind of trap or something. Supposed to be in box Y-186. Sam said it was probably in here somewhere,” Dean said.

“You’d think for a bunch of librarians the Men of Letters would’ve been better at actually organizing their shit,” Charlie huffed.

Dean grunted in response and they went back to searching. About an hour and a half later, Dean found what they had been searching for. It was a twenty-foot length of silky, silver rope, stuffed in a box, wedged between the wall and the last rickety metal shelf in the room. Sam, Dean, and Charlie agreed to take the rest of the night off. It was almost midnight, and not one was willing to make the six-hour drive from Lebanon to Camden until they were at least partially rested. 

**********

Dean awoke first. He stretched his shoulders, his body surprisingly loose. The usual stiffness in his knees and shoulders was absent, not that he was complaining. He yawned, running his hands through his hair, except, it was much softer than it usually was, and longer. He jerked up on his bed, his eyes shot open as he moved his hands forward, long, silky strands of hair still woven between his fingers. It was red, bright red. He twirled the strands through his fingers, which weren’t his fingers. They were too slender, with maliciously shaped black nails. A tiny strangled sound escaped his throat, as he glanced down. Boobs. He had boobs. 

“The fuck?” He gasped. Not his voice. Way too high of a pitch to be his voice. Shit. He shot out of bed, surveying the bare walls of the room, then glancing down to the bed he had previously been occupying. A thick, plush A New Hope blanket lay folded over itself on the bed. 

“Son of a bitch!” He shouted, running out the door and down the hall, his feet slapping against the cold tile. “Sam! Charlie!” 

Dean reached Sam’s door first, pounding on the door. The door cracked open and Sam poked his head out. Dean craned his neck to look Sam in the eye. Sam yawned, and brushed his bushy hair away from his face. “What’s up, Charlie?”

“No. Not Charlie. Dean,” Dean snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Charlie, it’s too early for whatever game you’re playing. We’ll impersonate Dean later. Right now, just give me a chance to wake up.” 

“Excuse me? Is that what you two do when I’m not around?” Dean pouted. 

“Come on, just give me a minute to…” Sam was cut off by a shrill scream echoing from the room across from his. He bolted from the door, shoving Dean to the side and throwing open Dean’s bedroom door. 

“Dean, what’s wrong?” Dean ducked and poked his head around Sam, trying to get a glimpse of the scene in his bedroom. 

“Sam, something really weird is happening,” Charlie said. 

Dean jabbed Sam in the ribs and barged through the threshold. “I told you that mirror was cursed!” He grumbled, standing at the foot of the bed. 

Dean stood there, staring at his own body, instantly getting the wind knocked out of his sails. His arms dropped to his sides. Charlie was sitting in the middle of his bed, clutching the sheets bunched up around her waist. She stared at him, her mouth fluttering open and shut like a landed fish. 

“Dean?” Sam asked.

“What?” Dean responded, facing his brother. Sam’s eyebrows arched towards his hairline as he shifted his gaze between Dean, in Charlie’s body, and Charlie, in Dean’s body. 

“Whatever game you two are playing isn’t funny,” he said.

“It’s not a game, Sam,” Dean said. “I think Dean and I swapped bodies,” Charlie said. 

“Ya think,” Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. 

Charlie fidgeted with the blankets in her hands. 

“What happened?” Sam asked, his mouth hanging open in a frown. 

“I found a mirror and then everything was fine and we just woke up like this,” Charlie said, gesturing to the empty space between Dean and herself. 

“Oh my god, guys,” Sam groaned, throwing his head up towards the ceiling, “We really need to start using gloves when he go through the crap in the storerooms.” 

“Oh, wow, that’s a great idea, should’a thought of that yesterday!” Dean sniped.

“Okay, okay, Dean, just calm down.” Sam let out a deep breath, shutting his eyes and rubbing his temples. “It’s too early for this shit.” 

Dean scoffed.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Sam said, “I’m going to make some calls, see if anyone in the area can take the hunt for us. You two need to go back and find the catalog number of the mirror and then we can check the log books to figure out how to undo this mess. Sound good?” 

“Great,” Dean said. 

“Uhmm,” Charlie interjected. 

“What?” Dean and Sam asked in unison.

“I have to pee,” she said, fiddling with the hem of Dean’s t-shirt.

“So go to the bathroom,” Dean said. 

“But…” She looked up at Dean, grimacing. 

“What?” Dean asked. Charlie bobbed her head and shrugged her shoulders. “You know,” she said with a whine. 

“It’s just a penis, okay. You’ll be fine. I don’t like it anymore than you do, but we’re gonna have to deal with it,” Dean said. 

“This is so beyond fucked up,” Charlie said, swinging her legs off the bed. 

“You’re tellin’ me,” Dean said. 

Sam shook his head and exited the room, mumbling something about coffee as he shambled into the kitchen. Dean followed him and Charlie shuffled off towards the bathroom. 

Sam started the coffee pot and pulled a mug out for himself, setting it on the counter. Dean had to stand on his tip-toes to reach the mugs in the cabinet. Sam glanced over at him and shook his head, rubbing his eyes. Charlie returned from the bathroom after a short time and the three of them stood in the kitchen, saying nothing and looking anywhere but at each other. Dean leaned up against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. This sucked. Granted, it could’ve been a whole hell of a lot worse, he could’ve wound up with an extra head or been turned into a toad or something, but this was absolutely not how he wanted to spend his morning. Granted, being Charlie wasn’t the worst thing in the world, in fact, it was preferable to some random person, but still. The whole thought of being inside someone else’s body, and not in a sexy way, left him with a sick, achy feeling in his stomach. 

The coffee pot beeped and Sam poured three cups of coffee. The trio then moved into the library and sat at one of the long tables, sipping and saying nothing. Sam broke the silence first, announcing that he was off to get the log books and suggesting that Charlie and Dean head back to the store room and find the box. Charlie led the way back to the room and the shelf that she thought the mirror was on. Crouching down she took a box from the second shelf. 

“I think this is it,” she said, raising up. 

“Ow!” She shouted as her head thumped against the shelf, shaking the shelves. 

“Watch it. You’re gonna give me a goose egg,” Dean said, absently rubbing a spot on the top of his head. 

Charlie rose, stroking the bump forming on her head. She handed the box to Dean and he tipped the lid open. Yep, the mirror was in there, its brass handle sticking out from under a thin layer of wrinkled tissue paper. They headed back into the war room to find Sam sitting at the table, talking on the phone. He gave them a slight head nod as Dean set the box on the table. Sam hung up the phone and sat down in the chair across from Charlie. He folded his hands over top one of the large leather ledgers in front of him. 

“So, Travis had a case in Newton but he’s willing to take the kelpie hunt. I’m going to meet in him Salina in at noon,” Sam said. “Is this the thing?” He asked, pointing to the box on the table. 

“No, Sam, we picked a random box because we thought it would be fun,” Charlie said. 

Dean smirked and Sam rolled his eyes, flipping open the ledger in front of him and skimming through several pages. Dean and Charlie both took a book each and went to searching as well. It took three books each and two pots of coffee before Sam shouted, “Got it!” and Dean and Charlie both perked up expectantly. 

“W-157: Magic Mirror,” he said, “apparently it’s not a curse, it’s a blessing that allows it’s gazer to attain their deepest desires.” 

“Bullshit! I don’t want to be some beefy, macho dude! No offense, Dean,” Charlie said, slinking back in her chair. 

“And I damn sure don’t wanna be Charlie,” Dean said. 

“According to this,” Sam continued, “the mirror gives whoever gazes at their own reflection the opportunity to realize their desires by allowing them to live them out in some way. The Men of Letters did a few experiments with the mirror. Apparently, Jacob Harris, a man of letters woke up claiming he was someone named Fyodor. A week later he was back to his old self, claiming he spent the previous week as a Russian farmer. He then built that busted up greenhouse behind the bunker and dedicated the rest of his life to the cultivation and cataloguing of magical plants. Another man, Arnold Friar, went two months answering only to the name Janet after touching the mirror. When he came back to himself he quit the Men of Letters and no one ever heard from him again. A few months later, a woman by the name of Janet showed up at the bunker, asking to be a part of the organization. They turned her down.” 

“Dicks,” Dean and Charlie said in unison. 

“Anything in there about people who looked into it at the same time?” Dean asked, throwing back the last of his lukewarm coffee. 

“No, nothing,” Sam said. 

“Great,” Dean said. 

“But the other people who looked in the mirror seemed to have swapped with people who had something they wanted,” Charlie said.

“So maybe there’s a lesson you two need to learn in all this,” Sam said, pointing to Dean and Charlie. 

“Great. We’ve been Freaky Friday-ed,” Dean grumbled, rising from the table, coffee mug in hand. 

“Actually, this could be a good thing,” Sam said. 

Dean spun on his heels and Sam held up his hands defensively. “I’m just saying that whatever you two wanted the other obviously has. And it’s a lot easier to figure it out here without having to explain the concept of magic mirrors to two total strangers. Whatever your deepest desires are we can figure it out relatively easily,” Sam said. 

Dean rolled his eyes. 

“Sam’s right. This was probably the most painless solution,” Charlie said. “I guess we just have to figure out what it is we want.” 

Dean snorted. Sam frowned at him, his lips pursed and eyebrows raised. 

“Don’t give me your bitch face,” Dean snorted as he walked out the room. When he returned with a full cup of coffee, Sam and Charlie were leaning over the table, hovering in each other’s space. The timbre of his own harsh whisper echoing in the room. They froze when Dean crossed the doorway. He rolled his eyes and plopped down in the chair next to Charlie. 

Sam stood and glanced down at his watch-less wrist. “I should probably be heading off. It’s about an hour to Salina and I don’t want to keep Travis waiting. I’ll call Cas, see if he wants to head over here,” Sam said. 

“You don’t trust us to stay out of trouble on our own?” Dean balked. 

Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “In case you need anything. I didn’t think you two would really want to be out and about in your present situation.” 

Dean remained silent. A few moments later, Sam was out the door and the bunker remained quiet, except for the occasional rattle and clank of pipes echoing inside the walls. Dean found himself gnawing at the nail polish on his nails, but stopped when he realized what he was doing, sputtering and spitting to get the flecks of polish off his lips and tongue. He could feel Charlie staring at him. He glanced at her. His stomach dropped when he caught her gaze. Her brow was furrowed and her lips were curled downward soft frown. He turned away. It was two weird, staring at himself staring at him. It was like a living reflection, sitting there, judging him. His own eyes staring him down, pleading with him for something he wasn’t sure he knew how to give. And even with the softness in his eyes, he looked intimidating. He was so much smaller now, slouching in his chair under the intense gaze of Charlie in his body. She didn’t mean to, but it was like she was glowering over him. There was probably a metaphor in there for something. 

“What?” He more barked than asked. 

Charlie raised her hands up, “Nothing, I just think, maybe...” she let her sentence hang in the air. 

“Maybe what?”

“Look, I know how you are about feelings and all that,” she rolled her eyes, “but I think it would be the easiest and fastest way to figure this out.” 

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Charlie cut him off. “Look, I’ll go first,” she said. “Since you have about as much chance to bang ScarJo as I do, especially like this, I’d say my deepest desire probably has something to do with being a hero.” 

“What are you talking about, you’re already a badass on your own,” Dean said. “Yeah, but come on, you’re Dean Winchester: defender of humanity. I’m just, Charlie: hacker nerd girl.” 

“Bullshit,” Dean said. “You’re not just anything. You’re Charlie, badass hunter, Queen of Moondor, out, loud, and proud, take no shit, Bradbury.” 

“Have you actually seen me on a hunt? I’m the biggest ditz to every ditz. I freeze up when I’m talking to people and I get scared at the drop of a hat. Last time I was hunting a werewolf I heard a noise so I panicked and I shot a leaf.” 

Dean stifled a chuckle and shook his head. “And you think walking around and pretending you’re me is going to help you not freak out?” 

“Yeah,” she said with a faint smile. 

Dean paused for a second, leaning in closer. “You know what, that actually might be a good idea.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“It’s like LARPing, right? You pretend to be me and you go out there and kill yourself some monsters and rescue some grateful citizens and realize that you had it in you all along,” Dean said. 

“You’re serious about this?” 

“Yeah, sure. Sam and I will be with you, so we’ve got you covered if things go south.” 

“Oh no, you can’t be there.”

“Why not?” 

“Because,” Charlie scoffed, “I can’t have Dean Winchester tagging along while I’m trying to be Dean Winchester.” 

“But…” 

“What, you don’t actually think I could handle myself? You think I’d get myself killed?” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the arm of the chair. 

“No! No, I just think it’d be safer, is all,” Dean said. 

“Mm-hm.” Her face was flat as she glared at him. 

“Fine. We’ll talk to Sam when he gets back. But he’s going to side with me,” Dean said, jabbing his finger at Charlie. 

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, staring him down. He jerked away when he caught his reflection in her eyes. Or her reflection in his eyes. He shuddered. 

“Could you stop looking at me?” He asked.

“Why?” 

“It’s weirding me out.” 

“Like I’m comfortable with this whole thing?” Charlie rolled her eyes. 

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes. Dean began to pick absently at the polish on his nails, and Charlie drummed her fingers of the wood table, glancing at Dean from the corner of her eye. 

“Okay, now it’s your turn,” she said. 

“My turn to what?” 

“Share your insecurities, dude. I did it now you gotta,” she said. 

Dean snorted. “Right now, my deepest desire is to be me again.” 

“Well, duh. What was your deepest desire yesterday?” 

The metal bunker door creaked open and Cas walked in, a cardboard drink tray in hand. A hollow, metallic thud rang out as he made his way down the staircase. 

“Sam said the two of you could use sustenance, and that you were in a foul mood so I brought milkshakes,” Cas said, setting the tray on the table. 

“Dude, milkshakes for breakfast. You’re the best,” Charlie said, leaning over the table and taking one of the Styrofoam cups, “I almost forgive you for your lousy timing.” 

Cas squinted at her, then glanced at Dean, who shrugged and took the other milkshake. 

“Dean was about to talk about his feelings,” Charlie stated, slurping at her straw. 

“I can leave if it makes you uncomfortable,” Cas said, directing his attention toward Dean. 

Dean swatted at the air. “Sit down. I was just about to tell Charlie that I think this “blessing” or whatever only affects her.” 

Cas sat in across from Dean and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Why do you think that?” 

“She said she wanted to be a badass, which I already told her she was, but she got swapped with me, probably ‘cause we were looking in the mirror at the same time. Nothing more to it,” Dean said, jabbing his straw through the plastic lid. 

Charlie rolled her eyes. “I’m never gonna get my body back.” 

********

Sam, the big dumb moose, sided with Charlie. It took him three days to find a suitable hunt, which he promised Dean would be nothing but routine. It was what looked like a usual salt-and-burn in Stillwater, but Dean still refused to let them go until he checked over Sam’s notes three times and demanded that they call the second it looked like something else if it turned out to be something else. He’d made some joke about Charlie having a knack for acquiring new injuries for him when she was in the room, but in all reality he didn’t want to see her get hurt. Obviously. And he didn’t want to be stuck as Charlie. It’s not that it would be the worst thing in the world, after all. She was younger than him and fewer achy joints and she was beautiful, but he didn’t want to be a chick for the rest of his life, no matter how long that may end up being. 

Cas ended up staying behind to keep Dean company. Mostly, Dean suspected, was to keep him from taking one of the cars in the bunker’s garage and following them. After about four hours of being stuck in the bunker, flipping through the stolen cable and finding nothing to watch, Dean finally insisted that he and Cas get the hell out of the bunker before he went all Jack Torrance. Cas obliged, of course, and they made their way to a sports bar two towns over. 

The sports bar itself was some hole-in-the-wall place Dean had taken Sam to once after he made a big deal about some hockey game that was playing. The walls were plastered with autographed pictures and posters of no-name sports stars from years past Dean was pretty sure the owners found in their grandfather’s attic. Tacky, green hooded lights hung from the ceiling and the tables and chairs were a variety of dark woods that almost matched. A no smoking sign hung over the bar, but there were ashtrays present at every other table. He and Cas took a seat in the far corner of the room, close to one of the three flat screens hanging on the walls. Dean took the opportunity to explain football to Cas, who somehow pulled a “futility of man” metaphor out of it while they waited for Dean’s hot wings. Dean had hoped Charlie wouldn’t be upset with him for continuing his usual horrid eating habits while he was in her body, but he figured if there was one constant in the situation, and that was what he put into his body and there was no way he was giving that up. 

Cas listened while Dean bitched about anything and everything. He complained about the game, even though he wasn’t actually invested in it. He whined about the lukewarm beer and the tacky décor and about being too short to reach the top shelf in his closet. Cas sat there, humming along with Dean’s grievances, as patient as ever, offering whatever silver lining there might be. It occurred to Dean sometime after halftime that Cas wasn’t even paying attention to the game. Instead, he was watching Dean, and unlike both Sam and Charlie, he didn’t seem to be pitying him. The same gentleness Dean has seen time and time again when Dean was still himself never left Cas’s eye. He wasn’t looking at him like he felt sorry for him, or like he needed to be coddled. Cas looked at him as he always had. Perhaps, there were really two constants in this situation. 

Cas excused himself halfway through the third quarter, giving some long winded explanation about how he was half-way between an angel and a human and “certain things” still needed attending to from him to time. Dean brushed it off and went back to picking at the chicken bones on his plate when a waitress came up to his table and set another beer in front of him. 

“I didn’t order this,” he said. 

“It’s from the gentleman over there,” she said, pointing over her shoulder at three hefty farmhands crowding around a circular table. 

“Lazy,” Dean muttered as he rolled his eyes. The waitress smiled and shrugged before walking away. 

Dean glanced back over to the three men who were trying and failing to not stare. Well, it was probably a bad idea, but Dean’s never one to turn down a free beer. No sooner than when the rim of the bottle hit his lips did the blond farmhand’s head perk up. Dean made sure to catch his eyes and then shook his head back and forth, but the farmhand didn’t seem deterred. He rose from his seat and made his way over to Dean. The heavy scent of alcohol arrived before the man did. 

“Hey,” the farmhand said with a smile. 

“Save it. Not interested,” Dean said taking a long swig of his beer. 

“Aw, come on, you haven’t even let me introduce myself yet. It’s at least polite considering I bought you a beer,” the man said. 

Dean glared up at him. He wasn’t all that tall, maybe his height if he were in his own body and definitely not as built. But he wasn’t in his own body and this dude was at least twice as wide as he currently was and he towered over Dean. Dean shot a quick glance at the men’s room door. 

“My name is Ian. What’s yours sweetheart?” 

“Well it ain’t sweetheart,” Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

The man’s expression became harder, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “You don’t have to be so rude,” he said.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to come over here. Take a hint, pal.” 

“I wouldn’t’ve if I knew you were going to be such a bitch.” 

“Excuse me,” Dean rose to his feet. “What did you call me?” 

“You heard me, bitch.” 

“What gives you the right to talk to a lady that way? It's pricks like you that give men a bad rep you know that? Fuck off, douche.” Dean took a step forward, puffing out his chest. 

The man reeled back slightly, clenching his jaw. He huffed a laugh. 

“You’re lucky I don’t hit girls,” he said, turning to leave. 

“No, you just harass them,” Dean snarked. 

The man spun around on his heels, sneering down at Dean. His fist clenched at his side. Then from behind, a loud knock caught both their attention. Cas was standing at the opposite end of the table, his fist pressed firmly against the wood. He looked like a tiger ready to pounce with his shoulders tense and angled towards the farmhand, that dangerous smitey glint in his eyes. The farmhand raised his hands and backed away. 

“Look, man I didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” he said to Cas. 

“Why should that make any difference?” Dean asked. 

“Look, man I was just leaving,” the man said, pointing over his shoulder and scurrying back to his table without another word. 

Cas glanced at Dean, who rolled his eyes and slunk back into the chair. “Are you alright, Dean?” Cas asked. 

“I’m fine. He was just some douchebag.” 

Cas sat and nodded, his eyes returning to their familiar tenderness. 

“I could’ve taken him,” Dean said.

“I’m sure,” Cas said without an air of condescension in his voice. 

“But, uh, thanks anyway,” Dean said after a few moments.

“Of course.” 

“I think I’m ready to get out of here.” 

********

“Man, this sucks,” Dean said for the hundredth time as Cas brought his Continental to a stop, the breaks squealing. They were only a few miles away from the bunker at this point, but the silence that had fallen over them since they left the sports bar was starting to make Dean uncomfortable.

“I apologize. I haven’t had much time to properly maintain the car recently,” Cas said. 

“What? No, I meant the chick thing. But remind me to fix your breaks when we get back,” Dean said. 

“Oh, right,” Cas said as continued on. “If it’s any consolation, it doesn’t appear to be permanent. I’m sure your discomfort will only be temporary.” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, glancing out the window. “Still, it sucks, man. I mean, being a woman is so much freaking hassle. Between the weirdness of taking showers as Charlie, getting my bra straps twisted this morning and Admiral Douche Canoe back at the bar I’m about ready to crawl into a dark hole and wait for it to all be over.” 

“When I was human, I found the little things to be the most irritating. It was frustrating to say the least,” Cas said. 

“Huh, I guess I don’t really have much room to complain then do I? Considering…” A surge of guilt twinged through Dean’s stomach. He hadn’t thought about it, not for a long time, but Cas wasn’t human. And when he was Dean had been the farthest thing from supportive. If anyone had any right to complain about being stuck in a body he wasn’t used to, it was Cas; especially now that his stolen grace was failing. 

“No one’s individual suffering is greater than anyone else’s. Regardless of whether you are a woman or I am a celestial being,” Cas said, glancing in Dean’s direction. 

Dean slunk back in his seat, fiddling with his nails. “Do you miss it?” He asked. 

“Miss being an angel?” 

“Yeah.” 

Cas paused for a moment, his lips pursed tight. “Well I’m still an angel, Dean. I always will be, regardless of whether I’m technically human or not.” 

“How does that work?” 

“You’re still a man even though the body you’re currently occupying is female.”

“Right.” Dean shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck. “But I mean, do you miss being, you know, yourself? You know, Chrysler building sized furry of God?” 

Cas let a small chuckle slip. “Not as much as I once did. Transportation is, slower than I am accustomed to and eating and sleeping and urinating are tedious but I find humanity to be much more enjoyable.” 

“Enjoyable?” 

“I have seen every individual raindrop in a hurricane. I have heard every note of every bird song that has ever been chirped. And I have seen species die and evolve and die again. As a servant of heaven I knew much, but here on earth I find that I understand much more. I understand now the pain of destruction, the joy of friendship, and the desire to live, to dream, to hope, and to love. I understand that it is that makes humanity special, and if that means I must be confined to this limited body in order to enjoy it, then it’s worth it.” 

Cas looked over to Dean as they hit a red light. Dean licked his lips reflexively, feeling like a deer in the headlights under Cas’s patient stare. He was too floored to process everything that Cas had just said. 

“That’s some deep shit,” was all Dean could say. He remained silent until they arrived at the bunker. 

********

Sam texted sometime after six, letting Dean know that the hunt went well and they’d be back home in the morning. The rest of the night was quiet, with Dean and Cas settling into their nightly routine. Dean made dinner and asked if Cas wanted any, which he turned down like he did every time he stayed the night and Dean made a joke about how Cas was just afraid he’d give him food poisoning. Dean ate while Cas skimmed through a book on ancient Sumerian magic. Dean browsed the internet for a case and took notes on things that seemed odd. It was only eight thirty by the time he got tired of searching for cases and shut the laptop with a huff. 

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Cas asked, not looking up from his book. 

“I’m bored,” he said. 

“What would you like to do?” Cas asked, turning his attention towards Dean. 

“I dunno,” he rubbed a hand across his face, “I’m just bored. Do you want to do anything?” 

“I’m fine. Unless there is something you would like me to accompany you in.” 

Dean huffed, “You ever seen Chicago?” 

“It’s a little late to take a trip…” 

“No, the musical.” 

“No.” 

“Well then, come on, put the book down.” Dean waved Cas on towards his room. 

Cas hovered in the doorway as Dean pulled his computer onto the bed. “What are you waiting for? Get in here,” Dean said, patting his hand on the bed. 

Cas hesitated, then came in and sat tentatively on the bed while Dean popped the disk into the drive. They started out sitting next to each other, Cas’s legs stretched out in front of him. Gradually, they shifted and pressed their thighs together, setting the laptop in between them. It was nice. Cas only asked the occasional question and didn’t get all philosophical about it, so Dean was happy to answer him. He nudged Cas in the ribs whenever a good part was about to happen, and Cas didn’t make fun of him for mouthing along to the songs. Every once in a while he’d glance over to find Cas watching him out of the corner of his eye. He felt warm all over, but not in a bad way. A vague thought crept into his mind about home and family, and for the first time in years, he didn’t push it away. For years, he’d had a quiet little nagging in the back of his mind that maybe someday, when the world wasn’t in danger of imploding he’d ask Cas to go somewhere quiet and maybe a pier and they could just sit and enjoy each other’s company for a little while. And then maybe, just maybe, if he’d had the balls, he’d lean over and kiss him square on the lips. Of course, he’d come to the conclusion shortly after they failed to shut the gates of Hell that the world was always going to be in crisis and there was no change of ever getting what he really wanted. But then again, this was his chance to live out his deepest desire. Perhaps this moment could be enough. 

After their movie ended, Dean let Cas pick something out and they resumed their position on the bed, this time with Dean’s toes resting against Cas’s leg. And as the night went on, Dean found himself pressing closer and closer to Cas as he grew more and more tired. By the time the credits rolled, Dean was resting with his head against Cas’s shoulder, breathing in the soft linen scent of Cas’s trench coat. He was warm and so soft, and Dean could bring himself to care that he was practically cuddling the angel. 

“Dean?” Cas said softly. 

“Hmmm?” He hummed back, shifting his weight onto his own shoulder, nuzzling closer. 

“Are you asleep?” 

“Hmmmm.” Dean responded. 

Cas pulled the laptop off their thighs. Dean missed its warmth and grumbled slightly. 

“I’ll let you sleep.” Cas said, pressing against the mattress as he started to move. His weight caused the mattress to dip and Dean rolled with its movement. 

“Stay,” Dean mumbled, tugging on the sleeve of Cas’s coat. 

Cas obliged, sitting back down on the bed. As Dean drifted off, he became faintly aware of the fact that his leg was draped across the angel’s legs, but he was also aware that he didn’t care. 

********

Dean awoke alone. He stretched and his shoulders popped. He groaned a deep, guttural groan and instantly shot up in bed. He was back in Charlie’s room, not his room where he had fallen asleep. He looked down at his hands. They were his hands. He chuckled the blankets off his body. His body! He jumped out of bed and ran down the hallway, shouting for Charlie the whole way. He flung the door open to find Charlie and Cas, still curled up in bed with Cas’s trench coat draped over top of them. 

“Charlie!” 

Charlie jumped up with a start, her hair stuck to her face. “I’m up!” She said, swinging her head in every direction. Cas stirred, opening his eyes and squinting in Dean’s direction.

“Charlie, we’re back!” Dean said, bounding over to the bed. Charlie spat at the hair stuck to her lips and brushed it out of her face. It took her a moment, first running her fingers through her hair, then staring down at them and then up at Dean. She squealed. Then her eyes met Cas’s next to her and a wide smirk flared across her lips. 

“Only affected me, my ass!” She shouted. 

“Shut up, Charlie,” Dean said. 

She beamed as she pushed the trench coat off her lap and crawled out of the bed. “We’ll I’m gonna go let Sam know that everything’s kosher. I’ll leave you two alone, but don’t expect too much ‘cause I’m sure Sam’s gonna want to see that you’re you for himself,” she said, shutting the door with a wink. 

“Charlie!” Dean called after her. He didn’t make a move towards the door.

“Dean.” 

Dean glanced down at Cas who was still reclining in his bed. His eyes were streaked red and his hair was mussed from sleep. 

“Cas, I…” 

Cas reached up and took Dean’s wrist, stroking the large vein with the pads of his fingers. They probably had a lot to talk about, a lot for Dean to get off his chest, but now was not the time. Cas scooted over and pulled Dean into the bed and interlaced their fingers. They were both asleep by the time Sam pushed the door open. He let them sleep.


End file.
